Hh This Is Amazing- Your Writing Has Improved So Much Over The Past Year!! 💕💕🥰

Beefy older Nat walks into their apartment to see reader trying to move a heavy couch cause something fell behind it but reader is just failing at it. So Nat uses those big beefy arms to move the couch and reader is just like entranced by Nat’s muscles and Nat teases reader.

Beefy Nat could do literally anything to me and I would agree 1000%!

warnings: beefy!older!nat x younger!small!reader, size kink and size difference. sfw

You knew you should’ve waited for Natasha to move the couch, because now? Well, you’re halfway across the living room, remote in your hand, and extremely tired from attempting to push back the extra large wine red sofa.

To be fair, the sofa was big... as in excessively big, maybe it was just you and your small frame, or the fact that your wife was a woman with a large stature that almost challenged of that Steve’s.

Still, who needed that big of a sofa right? Right...

Whatever. You’re here now, half-way there and back to it’s original spot, but it’s futile. Every groan and push of your hand barely dents the furniture and you’re there standing in the middle of your living room with a sweaty face and heaving chest.

You frown to yourself and give the couch a kick.

“Stupid fuckin’ thing... IKEA had better deals than this...” You grumble to yourself as you huff once more and get into positive to try again.

“Y’know,” the voice makes your eyes wide and body jump in surprise. When you turn, you find said red-head leaning against the arch frame with a grin as she watches you. “As much as I enjoyed that, you could’ve asked.”

You watch her stride across the apartment with no more than five steps before she stands in front of you. Her tall figure towering over you with a grin before she leans and takes your lips into her own.

“You need help, baby?”

Her breath fans against your lips like feathers and you whimper at the edge of her touch.

“‘M so tired from pushin’, Natty...”

Her chuckle fills the room before she pulls away.

“Okay, sunshine,” she turns to the couch and cracks her knuckles in preparation. “Say less.”

You practically stand there, wide eyed, and bambazolled as the redhead pushes the sofa back to its original place with ease - no sweat, no grunt, not a blink.

It should be leaving your frustrated and perhaps annoyed but at the sight of her back muscle working through the thin fabric of her Lululemon shirt, you grow aroused at the sight of those large arms caging you in and slipping in between your —

“There we go,” her voice snaps you back and she looks at you with pink cheeks. “Y’alright, princess?”

You bite your lip and nod, swaying uncomfortably in your spot before you realize that you can finally sit at a good distance from the TV.

“T-Thank you... y’know, for the sofa,” you beam up at her in gratitude and the older woman could help but grin at your small voice.

She takes your chin into her hands and lifts your head up - inches away just from your face.

“Anything for my girl.”

reunion

nsfw nat/f!reader

note: uh.. foreplay? idk i didnt edit this or read this, it was in my drafts and i never finished it because I’m lazy also i think this was supposed to be mediocre gfs verse but i forgot where i was going with this so here u go

Keep reading

Shame

Warnings: mommy kink, size kink, smut, swearing etc

Natasha loves the fact that you’re smaller than her, she absolutely revels in it but, of course, she’d never tell you that... The redhead has always been the smallest of the avengers so when you came around she would always tease you about your height (even though you were only a few inches shorter than her).

It was always “hey tiny” or “how’s the weather down there?” with Natasha. You assumed she taunted you about your height because she genuinely didn't like it. She probably thought it was childish to be a full grown adult and 5’2. And at first you didn’t say anything, not wanting to anger the intimidating woman, but after a while you two became quite close and you started to fire your own taunts, “well you would know considering we’re the same height, Tasha.”

Those words stunned the assassin; she didn’t expect the nickname so her cheeks flushed a deep red, which you picked up on. Not long after that, you started dating. Obviously, you confessed your feelings for the woman first- you knew if it was up to her, she would never come clean- and she returned those same feelings.

As the relationship progressed and you started to learn about her characteristics, you made the assumption that your girlfriend had a somewhat kinky side. With the way she carried herself around the others, she definitely had a dominant personality in the bedroom...which you was most certainly correct about!

You had discovered a whole different side to Tasha that only you knew about. You felt privilege and yet confused; you felt as if there was a whole new depth to her character you haven’t seen until now...

Here you were, ankles and wrists wrapped in red silk attached to each bedposts. If it wasn’t clear, Nat liked you tied down; completely and utterly helpless to her touch.

Lewd noises of the redhead’s strap thrusting into you at an inhuman pace-accompanied with your whorish moans- filled the almost silent room. Tasha’s sex playlist playing from the sound system with her red led lights on display. The occasional grunt from the woman above you joined in whenever her clit brushed at the right angle against the strap.

“Fuck, baby. Your tight pussy is gonna make me cum. Such a sweet pussy. All for me.” Natasha loved sex talk; always reminding you about how good you look, feel and taste. She was always calling you cute little nicknames as she brings you to climax, and even when she allowed you to return the favour.

On the other hand, she adored degrading you. She adored making you cry at her venomous words as she fucked you stupid. But, she only reserved those titles for when you were a bad girl and needed to be punished...

“Oh. Shit, Tasha. I-I’m gonna cum.” Your first orgasm almost washes over you; however, she had different ideas and pulled out before you could slip. Snaking a hand around your throat she applies little pressure, letting you know she was pissed.

“What did you call me?!” She seethes through her teeth. Sheer fury with a tinge of lust swirling in her eyes as she pins you beneath her weight like a predator with its prey.

You don’t know what you did wrong.

You always moaned her name as you came.

You thought that was what she liked...

Countless thoughts raced through your mind about what you had allegedly done wrong and Natasha had seen, so she relieved you of your mounting stress.

“When we’re in here doing this...” She harshly snaps her hips, driving the head of the toy up against your sensitive walls. You throw your head back in euphoria, unintentionally letting a carnal growl escape from within.

“It’s mommy, little one.”

Mommy...that’s new. You whisper to no one, anxious she might overhear you. Fear brews in the pit of your stomach, but excitement overpowers it, and a wide grin forms on your face. This is what you’ve been waiting for.

“I’m sorry... mommy.”

Your girlfriend groans audibly at the way you whine her new name. She couldn't stop herself from thrusting back into you, slowly at first but gradually picking up the pace. She couldn’t rip her eyes from you; the way your tits bounced in time to her thrusts, your gaping mouth as threads of incoherent words and moans tumbled, your shuddering muscles that rippled beneath her finger pads.

The hand pinning your thighs apart moves to grip your jaw. She pushes her thumb in your mouth, waiting to see how you react. But you know what she wants. So you suck the digit, swirling your pink tongue around it, lathering it with your saliva as a light “hmm” vibrates against the pad. Natasha’s light green irises turn into a dark emerald shade, raging lust even more evident.

“Open.”

She spits in your mouth, no need to instruct you what to do next since you've already swallowed, your eyes rolled far back in your head.

“Look at your pretty little pussy. So pink and fluffy...hmm, take me so good, baby.”

“Only for y-you, mommy.” You whine out with her thumb still deep in your mouth, on the brink impending orgasm. Unfortunately, Natty pulls her entire body away from you once again and this time you can’t help but let out a loud whine of frustration.

“Hey! Don’t start that shit with me, little girl.” Your head jerked to the side, and your cheek burned from the connection of Tasha's palm, as well as the fresh tears - mixed with your running mascara - streaming from your eyelids. Her poisonous words stinged even more so than the slap. It seems as if you’ve discovered another one of her kinks...

“For that, you’re gonna ride my cock...like a good, little slut.” She trails her fingers over your reddened cheek before releasing you from her silky restraints and situating herself against the pillows, so she can yank you onto her lap.

Still stunned from the slap, you failed to notice her aligning your core with the strap until she pushed you down, stretching your tight walls once again. You cry out - the loudest you had done this whole night- which spurs on the redhead to rock your hips agonisingly slow.

“Oh no, pretty girl...you’re so tight. You’re too little for me, huh? So small and precious... let mommy help you.” She moves to rub fast circles on your swollen clit. Involuntarily, you rut up to meet Tasha’s fingers, wedging the strap even deeper.

Ahh so she does like my size...she likes it a lot more than she lets on. You wonder to yourself. You wouldn’t dare say your thoughts aloud unless you wanted the assassin to spank your ass black and blue, and still not let you cum. The addicting pleasure of her cock inside you, her digits circling harder on your bundle of nerves and her powerful hips rolling into yours knock you out of your deep trance.

“That’s it, printessa. So beautiful. Riding me like this. So eager...fuck, I could cum just by watching you.” Her praises spur you on and you start to bounce, holding her shoulders for support, suddenly desperate to make yourself and mommy cum. Her eyes remained glued to your marked breasts, shoved in her face as they move rhythmically. She removes her fingers from your bundle of nerves and brings the drenched digits to her lips, checks hallowing as she sucks them feverishly.

“You taste so sweet, baby.” She moans gently at the taste of you. Peering up at you,she silently commands you to keep your eyes trained on hers. No matter though because if she kept looking at you like that, you weren’t gonna last long...

“Mommy, ’m gonna cum.” Your bounces become more out of rhythm with her thrusts: tits grazing against her face, moans and whimpers echo the bedroom walls and your pussy gushes around her thick cock.

“Beg me.”

“Please, mommy...oh, let me cum for you. I’ll do anything please, can I cum? I’ll be good, promise, please please...” You weep out, praying she’ll have mercy on your soul and finally let you finish. She remains silent for a few moments, compelling you to hold on a little longer before she decides. She grabs your hips instantly, forcing you to bottom out as she fucks up into you harder than ever.

“Cum for me, baby. Cum for mommy.” She pants out- a little tired from her rapid thrusts- and you immediately clamp on her, back painfully arching, making it difficult for her to continue her ministrations.

You can hardly even moan since you're struggling to breathe, and yet she pulls you down to kiss you as if she's stealing whatever little air you have. Pulling slightly back, you attempt to take some deep breaths before letting out a string of promiscuous wails as she soothes your convulsing body.

“You’re all good,baby. That’s it, good girl.”

She coos as you finally crash, collapsing forward into Tasha’s chest, hissing at the strap moving still deep inside. She tilts your heavy head up, forcing you to look into her eyes. The flicker of green descends from your eyes to your lips which lets you know that she wants you to kiss her. Tiredly, you lean forward, pressing your lips against hers. You don't slip a tongue. You merely push your lips against hers.

She doesn’t like that and roughly spanks your ass twice, your body jolting forward in painful surprise. If you were going to kiss Tasha, you had to kiss her properly...

To be honest, you loved this rough side of Natasha. During the early stages of the relationship, she was timid and entirely selfless. Not sure how far she should go or if you loved her as much as she loved you. But she was ravenous now, using your body for her pleasure- and yours.

You lean forward again, this time parting your lips allowing the redhead to slip her tongue into your mouth. Her hands- still on your ass- massage the red globes. She drives her tongue deep; as assertive as she wishes because you belong to her. Only her. Releasing your muffled moans into her mouth allowing her to swallow them whole, your palms cup her breasts as you gently pull them towards you and then back to her; playing with them as a sort of comfort instead of pleasing her.

The kiss becomes more sloppy, more messy as both of your saliva moistens the kiss and dribbles out the side of your mouth. At one point, your tongue slips from hers and splashes against her cheek but she’s too engrossed in the make out session to care; your enamouring whimpers depriving her of her senses.

Her hands at your ass- squeeze it softly- beginning to make you rock against her; completely forgetting about her cock still inside you. You shriek at the stinging ache and Nat silences you with another long kiss before slowly lifting you off her, and tossing the toy somewhere for her to clean later.

“Sorry, honey. I forgot.”

Her hand brushes the sweat-drenched hair away from your forehead and she leans over your frail form, pressed delicately against the sheets, to grab you the bottle of water she got beforehand.

“Here, drink this before you go to sleep please.”

You gulp down the water as if you had been neglected of the clear liquid for a long period of time. Small drops end up dribbling from the corner of your lips and down your chin. Nat notices, leaning down to lick away the residue, a subtle whimper escapes your throat and you suddenly remember she never came.

“But, y-you didn’t finish, Tash.” You pant, voice still hoarse from your cries of ecstasy.

“It’s okay, baby. Today was all about you anyways.”

Still selfless, I see. You wanted to reply but you were too exhausted to open your mouth. Your fatigue suddenly washing over you as your eyelids droop, too heavy to keep open.

“Go to sleep, kotenok. Promise I’ll be here when you wake. I love you.” She kisses you once on the cheek, then twice on the forehead ...your favourite types of kisses. Bathing in her radiating warmth, you shuffle fowards, limbs locking around her waist, your naked flesh flushed against each other.

“Thank you. Love you too, mommy.”

As expected, Tasha was peering down at your dishevelled form the next morning: hair thrown everywhere and puffy eyelids. To her, you looked beautiful.

“Good morni-”

“So mommy, huh?”

The Russian was taken aback by your unexpected question. Of course, she forgot about how she made you call her mommy the previous night. She didn't even bother asking if you were okay with it. She simply told you, and that was the end of it. When your words finally register in her brain, a dark red blush - almost the same color as her tresses - appears on her chiselled cheeks.

“Don’t kink shame me!” She leaps on top of you, blowing wet raspberries onto your exposed stomach. Your contagious giggles ring sweetly in her ears, and your limbs flail incessantly, attempting to push the much stronger woman away. Once she finally lets go, she returns her attention to your face, only to find you grinning up at her with pure adoration in your eyes.

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that... mommy.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Notes: i keep getting carried away with these but here’s this. i worked on this like all day so hopefully y’all like it <3

Taglist: @teenwonder @wandasugarbby (bc i used one of those prompts you talked abt but it’s nat sorry sjshsjd)

Hi

Hi

OPF request, natasha braiding R's hair after a shower together with some discussion about their past during the braiding? Also some of the head lean backward, pulling on braid for a kiss please :) If you'd like (I would also love it) the showering scene with them both being dumb and nearly getting soap in their eyes or something lmao

yesssssss, this is beautiful!

| natasha x fem!reader | only pretty faces |

warnings: mentions of death

You hear Natalia switch the shower on, the water thundering through the pipes, and you slip out of bed and pad down the corridor to the bathroom. Still no lock on the door: you push it open with your fingertips and inhale the steam that billows out. You step in and shut the door with a click behind you: Natalia’s shadow twists in the shower.

“Hey,” she says, from behind the half-drawn shower curtain. “You scared me.”

You pull your clothes off, let them crumple in a pile next to hers, and tie your hair back.

“I’m not scary,” you say. You lift a leg over the lip of the bath and step into the spray: it’s hot and forceful. Natalia reaches for you, grabs your elbows and pulls you closer. She kisses you, her face warm and wet. Her hair is soaked down, soap bubbles drifting off her shoulders - you reach out and smooth them away with your palm.

“No,” she says. She runs her fingers over your eyebrows, dripping water into your eyes.  “You’re not. You’re cute.”

You pull an awful face at her, but you don’t draw away. Eventually, she smiles at you, kisses you again with that smile still on her face.

“Want me to wash your hair?” she asks, palms flat against your sternum. 

“Yes,” you say. You push your forehead against the strong bridge of her nose. She presses her lips to the space between your eyebrows. “Let me sit down. It’s early.” She laughs.

“Okay.” She presses lightly on your shoulders and you go willingly, sinking to the floor of the bathtub. You trace her thighs with your fingers as you drop, and then you twist so your back is to her, your knees up to your chest. The spray of water is rapidly wetting your hair. Natalia tugs it gently out of its hair tie and digs her fingers into it, sorting through the snarls and knots. Then she sits behind you, lays her legs out alongside yours, and starts the wash.

Her hands are strong and steady, lulling you back into a steady doze. You lay against her chest, allowing her to enclose you, less like a cage and more like a shield against the wide white wall behind the two of you.

Each cycle of the wash is gentle and thorough. You must sit there for at least an hour, but she doesn’t complain of wasting the day or sitting in discomfort in half an inch of warm water. This intimacy is strange, close and naked but not sexual, easy in a way that makes you want to sink into her, crack her open and climb inside. You grip her legs to ground yourself from those images.

Natalia’s hands paused in your hair. “You good?” she asks. The spray beats down on your shoulders

“Good,” you say. You squeeze her knees playfully and in retaliation, she smears bubbles over your cheeks.

“Idiot,” she says, affectionately. You lay your head back on her shoulder and she grins down at you.

“You’re dripping soap in my eye,” you say, blinking rapidly. Your eye begins to burn.

“Oh, God,” Natalia says, sticking her hands into the shower stream quickly to rinse them off. “Sorry, sorry-” She cups her palms and splashes water over your face, too much, and it goes spilling into your mouth and up your nostrils. You splutter, scrambling up into a sitting position and scrubbing at your face. Behind you, Natalia begins to giggle in between her apologies. You twist and spit a stream of water in her face.

When the two of you step out, washed and scrubbed pink and breathing hard from your little water fight, Natalia grabs her towel. You tug it out of her hands. She raises her eyebrows at you quizzically.

The words almost stick in your throat. “Let me,” you say. Natalia hesitates - hesitates like she never does - and you grip the towel, so fearful of her withdrawal.

“Okay,” she says. You nod.

You dry her, feet first, then shins and strong calves and thighs, and as you progress, she watches you carefully. Observes you like she’s learning. You dry her stomach, her ribs, her spine, pausing to touch the rise of muscle beneath her skin. You keep your touch deliberately gentle. Her shoulders lose their tension when you wipe the water from her collarbones.

“Done,” you say, and you fold the towel over the rail and step away. She’s watching you still, hands in fists by her side. She seems to shiver, and you crouch to pick up her fresh clothes and offer them to her. She takes them, but doesn’t put them on, rather holds them out in front of her as if she’s afraid they contain a spider or a venomous snake. “Nata,” you say. Her eyes are wet. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” she says faintly. “I-” she cuts off her words and stares down quickly at her feet. “Nothing’s wrong. That was sweet. That’s all.”

Those words break your odd little trance, shrugging off the moment like a gossamer layer. You grab your t-shirt and pull it on over your head, your hair dampening the collar.

“Do you want cereal?” you ask, moving past her out of the bathroom door. 

It seems an age before she answers. “Yes,” she replies, her voice soft, frail like an icicle.

● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● 

You fix her cereal for her and by the time she’s dressed and wandered through the door of the kitchen, your hair has dried in tangles down your back. She surveys it instead of your face.

“Do you want me to braid it?” she asks, without making eye contact. You shove her bowl towards her and she sinks into a chair, receiving it with both hands. “You remember? We used to braid-”

“I remember,” you say. “I remember most of it.” That’s not at all true. You remember gentle fingers in your hair, your own hands fumbling through soft red and black and blonde locks. You also remember the snap of a neck in your hands, the dead stare of a little girl with her hair still in braids, fresh from the night before. And you remember pain and pain and pain.

Natalia lifts her spoon to her mouth.

You chew meditatively on your toast. You want her legs around your hips again, your head on her shoulder. You want to lie against her, within her, forever. “I’d like that,” you say. 

She smiles at you, relief dawning on her face.

She sits you down on the floor in the living room and switches the TV on. The punch bag is laid underneath the window like a sedan. Then she sits behind you, knees around your shoulders with a comb and a hairbrush and bends your hair to her will.

Natalia is gentle with you: always gentle. She pulls knots apart with her fingers, brushes your temple with her knuckles. 

“I remember this,” you tell her, and her hands still in the half-done braid. The TV twitters on. “This was one of the good memories.”

“One of the only ones,” she says softly. She carries on, twists and turns, locking your hair into itself. “You really remember this?”

“Only the concept,” you say. That at least is true: the braids are your memory, not the hands that made them, not the faces they framed.

“I braided your hair,” Natalia says, after a long pause. Far too casual. “You wouldn’t let anyone else touch it. Except for Kira.”

“Except for Kira,” you echo. You don’t remember Kira. You don’t want to ask: some sickening part of you imagines broken bones and blood in the snow. Natalia finishes the plait and gathers up the rest of your hair.

She pauses.

She tugs lightly on your hair and you tip your head back obediently, until your crown is in her lap and she’s staring down at you. Your neck stretches and strains.

Natalia leans down and kisses you, a touch more like a steal. You reach as far as you can to kiss her again, but she withdraws and pushes your head back up.

Her fingers card gently through your remaining hair, gathering three strands. “You don’t have to remember if you don’t want to,” she says quietly. “God knows I’d rather be ignorant.”

“I’m not ignorant,” you reply. You watch the TV move and flicker with dazed eyes. “I remember the pain. I remember that I don’t want to go back. Anymore.” You’ve dragged yourself from the mud: no, she did. She rescued you.

“I know,” Natalia says. She strokes your cheek with her thumb and you lean into her touch. “I’m grateful for you.”

requests | masterlist

taglist: @when-wolves-howl @fayhar @maggieromanov @transbi-spidey @romanoffscottage @blackxwidowsxwife @lizlil @screechcat @maddess @mellxa @haeva @diaryoflife @natashasilverfox @vicmc624 @strangegardentaco @phantomvael @lorsstar1st @rysnwilder @ima-gi–na-tion @paryl @picnicmic  @smallestavenger @lainjupi   @d1s0nym @simpforflorencepugh1 @the-v01d @kqmui @s1ut4nat @btay3115

notes: listen guys, I am so unmotivated right now. I’m so close to finishing TPTF and I’m so frustrated about this but here’s a little thing to keep you hooked. (also I linked my ko-fi in my bio if you felt like giving me money UNRELATED to fic writing because I am NOT MAKING MONEY OFF this, okay marvel?)

i’m a whore in theory but a virgin in practice

Sneak peak!! :D

How's everyone doing? I have been pretty busy and tired recently but thanks for waiting and for being patient! :))💕 This isn't what I usually write- I felt ✨inspired✨ so I hope u enjoy the sneak peak ❤️

Someone Who Answers

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: A small drabble where the Reader calls Natasha in the middle of the night.

Words: 600

You weren’t sure how long it had been since someone had answered your calls or texts.

It wasn’t like you didn’t have any friends. You had plenty. They were just busy with family, and life, and work. You were happy for them. Truly. You just wanted to talk to someone. You needed someone. And they left you with no one.

No one, except for Natasha Romanoff.

Even though you had her number in your phone, even though she said, all those years ago when she’d met you during some secret operation, that you could call her at any time, you had never done anything more than glance at the number. After all, Natasha was a very, very important woman. She had better things to do. Like save the world, or kill corrupt politicians, or clean her guns, or whatever the hell the Black Widow did in her free time.

You did everything you could to not call. You went through every possible excuse. She was working, she was saving the world, she was with a friend, she was practicing martial arts. All of them fell flat when, in the middle of the night, you found yourself aching for connection, however slight.

So, despite everything, you pulled your phone out, found the number, and pressed “Call.”

The second you pressed the button, you regretted it. Your heart felt to the pit of your stomach, your breath quickened, and your palms turned sweaty. The phone rang once. You pulled the phone away, preparing to hang up. The phone rang twice. You stared at the screen, waiting for something. You weren’t sure what for. Nothing happened, you didn’t get any signal, so you reached for the “End Call” button. But before you could press the button, a voice interrupted you:

“How did you get this number?”

You instantly brought the phone back up to your ear, a smile breaking free onto your lips. Oh, how amazing it was to hear someone speaking to you. Even if said person seemed less than enthused.

You took in a deep breath and forced the words out, “You gave it to me.”

“Oh,” Natasha said, and the harshness faded from her voice. “The humanities consultant for the Paris mission.”

“Uh, yes,” you said. You barely understood what had happened. All you could remember was that you were brought into this tiny room, sat down with Natasha, and she had you tell her about a remote, cut-off culture just East of Paris. Those twenty minutes were the highlight of your career. “Sorry I called you. It’s really late.”

“I’m in Cyprus,” Natasha said, and you hummed. It was a waste even wondering why she was on the other side of the world. You’d never learn, anyway.

“Good morning, then.”

“Thank you,” she said, then a few moments later asked, “Why did you call? Do you need something?”

“No, I’m fine,” you said. After a few breaths, you mustered up the courage to say, “I just wanted to talk.”

There was a pause on the other end. You thought she had hung up or simply couldn’t bother responding, but she ended up saying, “I’m free for the next hour. We can talk.”

And that was exactly what you did. It felt amazing. Not only to talk to someone, but to talk to someone who seemed so full of stories and complexities as Natasha was amazing. Sure, some of the stories veered on the edge of being dark or unbelievable, but that didn’t bother you. You had known what you were getting into when you started to talk to her.

HI HAPPY NEW YEAR- mediocre nat and r having a night out and r saying goodbye after nat drops her off but not saying she loves her and nat is like ?? hello??

hello thats very cute and in character but i am so tired ive been ready to collapse for like over a day so whatever tf im writing after this is what ur getting

This Friday date night goes a lot better than Nat's McDonald's fuckery from last week. You take her to that bar she likes near work, paying for the french fries you shared and the first two rounds. There was some game playing on the TV that you don't really follow but Nat clearly does because she laughs every time one of the teams fails. You don't think she really has a sports team she roots for and she admits she just picks the one with nicer uniforms to care about anytime sports comes on the TV.

When her team of the night wins, she plants a kiss on you that has someone at the bar hollering. You wince when she pulls away to glower at the man.

After that, you'd looped your arm around hers and you'd had a nice walk through the park. Skipped rocks in the pond. She had done a better job. In character, of course, but annoying nonetheless.

Tomorrow, she leaves for a mission, so she has to head to the tower tonight to pack up her gear and you've got an empty house for the foreseeable future.

It's sad.

You spend the car ride to your house gripping her hand and staring at the streetlights. Nat turns up the radio and taps the steering wheel to the beat of the song.

Nat leaps out of the car the moment she pulls into your driveway while you twist around to grab your tote bag from the backseat. When Nat comes and opens your door for you, you smile and take her hand.

Still, there's a sense of melancholy falling over you already. You sigh for the fifteenth time tonight and Nat just squeezes your fingers.

"I'll be back before you know it," she says into your shoulder while you fish your keys out of your bag.

"Now I have to take the bus to work," you say, sullenly.

"Tony would probably get you a car service if you asked."

You huff. Sometimes, you can't tell if she's fucking with you or if she's really that dense. One of the downsides of how casual the two of you are with each other, how often you poke fun at each other.

"What?" she huffs when you stomp to the living room to throw your bag on the couch.

"Now I have to fuck myself if I get horny." You spin quickly to glower at her. "And don't even say anything about Tony. We both know you'd probably commit some sort of atrocity if I ever did that just because you're emotionally constipated."

Nat scowls too. "Pot kettle black much."

The both of you squint at each other for a few long moments before you give in--always you first--and cross the distance to where she's leaning in your doorway.

Nat watches, impassive, as you pick up her hands. Lets you tug her closer to your body. "You know I own a cellphone, right?"

"Phone sex?" you mumble into her shoulder. "On the job?"

You can basically hear her eye roll. "No. You are so not getting off while I'm gone. But you don't have to act like I've got a terminal illness just because I'm going on a business trip."

Business trip. As if her business trip isn't some life-endangering superspy mission in god-knows-where, Europe, involving superhumans and, like, missiles.

"Come on," she says, pulling back so she can bump your chin up with your linked hands. "Send me pictures of your meals or whatever the hell normal people do."

"You'd just leave me on read," you grumble.

"I'll send you pictures of MREs so you can ignore me too." She's aiming for levity.

You are too down in the dumps to do anything but force a tiny smile and lean in for a quick kiss. She has to go soon. Too soon.

Nat tilts her head to catch your eyes. There's a hint of concern on her face. "Back before you know it."

"Don't break into my house again," you say, hoping your smile is more convincing this time. She's a superhero. No need to worry about a clingy girlfriend.

"No promises." She presses in for another kiss before stepping back, releasing your hands. "Bye, baby."

"Okay," you say with a heaving sigh, leaning on your door. Usually, you would watch her get in her car, wave at her through the window, and then disappear down the street.

Today, Nat does not move an inch. Looks at you expectantly.

She raises her eyebrows. "...bye."

You frown. "Bye?" you say slowly.

Still, she waits.

"Don't die," you offer. No movement. "...I would be sad."

Nope.

"I might even cry."

"Jesus," Nat growls out, spinning on her heel and storming off your porch. She's actually mad. You can tell.

You fumble with the door, making sure it's unlocked, before chasing after Nat. She's already at the wheel by the time you're knocking on her window.

She gives the wheel a look so searing, you're surprised it still has the gall to exist. Then, she rubs at her eye with an aggravated fist. Then, the window rolls down and she looks over at you with a tired look.

"What did I do?" you ask immediately, hands curling over the car door.

"Nothing."

You reach out to touch her cheek, something inside your chest aching something fierce when she flinches. "Nat," you say softly, voice thin from how much this hurts. Unexpected hurt, really. Pot kettle black, indeed. "Come on."

"I," she starts, stops to wince, continues with more gusto: "I will miss you."

"I'll miss you too," you reply quickly, hand tilting her face to look more fully at you. "If you died, I think I would never recover."

"I won't die," she murmurs into your palm, eyes pinned on you now.

"Promise?"

Nat smiles, a small roll to her eyes. "Sure, I promise."

"Okay." You nod, tipping onto your toes and tugging her face in to meet you in a chaste kiss. "I love you, okay? If you break your promise, I'll kill you."

Nat looks at you like you've hung the moon and the stars in the sky. Disguised, of course, by a wry shake of the head. "Haven't broken a promise to you yet. Won't start now. But also that made no sense."

"Get off my property, truther."

Nat grins, then, yanks you in for another hard kiss before letting you back up a few steps.

Her taillights disappear around the bend. Your heart feels heavy in your chest. She'll be back before you know it.

You be out here making me soft😭 This is really sweet, I appreciate it💕🥺

HAPPY FANFIC WRITERS APPRECIATION DAY!!!!!

I want to thank all of you wonderful writers that share your amazing works with us. I hope that you all know how much happiness & joy that you have given to me & I’m sure so many others. Getting to read your fantastic stories have put so many smiles on my face & have made my days so much brighter. I’m sending out love to all of you, REALLY THANK YOU ALLL FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART!!!! You are all FABULOUS!!!!! Here are some of the terrific writers that I have read from this past year,

@thorfanficwriter @what-is-your-plan-today @bolontiku @tilltheendwilliwrite @wordynerdygurl @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @sagechanoafterdark @jewels2876 @jobean12-blog  @that-damn-girl @jay-and-dean @roonyxx @denisemarieangelina  @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @the–sad–hatter

@americancowgirl19 @anathewierdo @angrythingstarlight @beccaanne814 @beyondspaceandstars @bitsandbobsandstuff @bonkywobble​ @buckstaybucky​ @buckybarnesdiaries @buckycuddlebuddy @buckysknifecollection @bugsbucky @callmeluna​ @carryonmywaywardcaptain​ @chevyharvelle @crispychrissy @cuddles-with-bucky @datfandombitch @elatedmarvel @fandom-basurero @fangirlovestuff @hannahshattuck @helloimanavenger @high-functioning-lokipath @honeyloverogers​ @howlingmedic @imagine-assembling-the-avengers @imaginedreamwrite @imagining-supernatural @just-the-hiddles @katymacsupernatural @ladytodd @lokibug  @loki-hargreeves​  @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @luci-in-trenchcoats​ @magellan-88 @marvelgirl7 @mostly-marvel-musings @navybrat817 @original-wintersoldier @percywinchester27 @plus-size-reader  @samwilsons-pillowpecs @shield-agent78 @shy-violet-soul @smediumsmeatbae @specialagentlokitty @spinsterlocity-writes @starlight-loki @starlightcrystalline @supernaturallymarvelous  @sunflowerxbarnes @sunriserose1023 @talesmaniac89 @thatfangirl42 @the–blackdahlia @the-emo-asgardian @theycallmebecca @tuiccim @thinkinghardhardlythinking  @twittytelly @vodka-and-some-sass @waiting4inspiration @waywardnerd67 @whisperlullaby @world-of-aus @writingfromkitchenator @writingsoftheloser  @why-did-i-write-this @xbuchananbarnes

And I hope that if you haven’t check out their work you do, I’d highly recommend them & so many others on here. It would take forever to list all the wonderful & talented writers on here, but I really want to thank each & every one of you that post on here, because you have given me so much joy!!! All of

And I love & appreciate you all so much🤗🤗🥰🥰😍😍❤️❤️!!!!!